Moving...from Blogger to WordPress!

New location to read Abortion Sucks - https://abortiontotallysucks.wordpress.com

For long-term readers, you may have noticed a change in the visual aspect of the blog. I had planned on changing up the theme a bit. This current one was the best I could find from Blogger. I found a better theme from WordPress. I have used WordPress previously. I like it for the visuals, more available options, ease of use.
I have been working on the new blog most of the day. It's been a while since I have used WordPress, but I was able to pick it up again quite easily. Adopting a similar look as this site. Adding relevant pro-life links to the sidebar. Was able to move all previous Blogger posts to the WordPress site. Will be adding more to the visuals.
I will be keeping this site up for a while. All new posts will be available for viewing at the new site posted above. If you subscribe to this site please change to subscribe to the new site.

A U-Haul on the Back of a Chevy Beretta

Beretta? That's a weird name for a car. But onto the story...

In terms of chronological events I left off in May of 2015 telling the story of the second abortion. Since then I have been mainly giving my opinions and thoughts, updating on my healing progress, and some news in regards to pro-life and social issues. I think it is time to visit the aspects of my life after the abortions.
It will be a journey of "one sin begets another" and subconscious behavior based on forgotten trauma.

To recap; I had been living with my mother at the time of the second abortion. We weren't getting along. Getting on each other's nerves. Fighting about the dumbest things. The anger escalated above the offense. From what I have read this is not uncommon, between persons who have had a mutual involvement in an abortion.

So the year would have been about 1997. I think late in the year. Winter was just beginning. Running away from something, something unknown. Packed up what little stuff I had. Stuffed it in a small U-Haul trailer. Hooked it up to that little Chevy Beretta and from Michigan to Texas I went!

My father had come up from Texas to help load the trailer and drive down. He did most of the night driving and through mountainous hilly terrain. I drove during the day on average roads.
Somehow that little car made it, with the trailer on the back. I left Michigan with the mileage past the 100,000 mark.

There is somewhat of a metaphor here. I have spent most of my adult life careening down hill and back up again, with attached baggage I didn't even know was there. Baggage seems to be a metaphor for the problems in our life.
People always talk about others having baggage and they need to get rid of it. I'm sure that is true to an extent. It's not good to carry it around and let it affect you. But at the same time, it never really can fully leave you. It really is a time waster to drive the baggage around looking for the first available dump.
In ways it can shape you, for better or for worse. If one is able to grab that baggage, look into all the contents, and evaluate it it will make you stronger. Just don't obsess over it. Sometimes the contents of the baggage will make you cry. And that's OK.

This all being said I would like to invite you on my continuing journey. The journey that involves men, drinking, funning, and the sins it led to. I will not chronicle every detail, just the basics.

So buckle your seatbelts baby, it's going to be a bumpy ride!...

Grandma is Going to be a Great Grandma

No, no, no, I am not pregnant! Goodness, no! I have proudly been a celibate asexual for over ten years. So ain't happening here.

My cousin's wife is pregnant. Making my grandma a great grandmother twenty three years after she was supposed to be the first time. I just found out a few days ago. I think everyone was afraid to tell me. My mother was the one who told me.

At first I was fine with it, perhaps a little numb. But now that the gravity of it all has hit I am feeling a little weirded out. Maybe a lot weirded. I don't know. Spending the day in bed. Perhaps eat comfort food. Read Bible and pray. Watch a movie.
I wish no ill will toward my cousin or his wife, and especially not toward the baby. I am actually happy for them. In fact, I am praying for a healthy pregnancy, a healthy birth and a healthy childhood for the baby.

I am feeling rather conflicted that my grandmother could easily be a great great grandmother already. Considering that Anastasia would now be twenty-two. Yet the situation will be viewed as her being a great grandmother for the first time. Both inside the immediate family, and in the extended family. The great granddaughter she rejected is tossed aside, not even a memory.

I guess she is happy about my cousin's baby. I don't know. She didn't even tell me about it. A part of me wants her to not be happy. I want her to recall the great granddaughter she rejected twenty three years ago. And feel severe pangs of guilt. I want her to understand the pain that it caused.

I know this is wrong. In fact I claimed to have forgiven her about half a year ago. Was the forgiveness a lie? Can I really have forgiven her yet still hurt? And want her to hurt? Am I a bad person for such feelings?

And That's OK

So the other day one of my coworkers dropped me off at home. A van for a home improvement company for the neighbor's project was parked in front of my house. I just walked around it, through the snow in my yard. One of the workers was coming out of the van. He said "sorry." I responded back with "that's OK." And I meant it. Didn't bother me.

I'm sure most of us respond with "that's OK" when someone responds with "sorry" over something that could be seen as a mild inconvenience, whether it really is or not. Whether we perceive it to be an inconvenience or not.

I usually respond with "that's OK," whether or not I think it is OK. Most the time I am not bothered. But even when I am bothered I go to the basic default of "it's OK."
This especially before I experienced the breakdown. I was a complete and total emotionless doormat.
Especially around men. And most of these men were selfish jerks. No, I do not mean most men are selfish jerks. Those who I allowed in my life were. There are some reasons I allowed jerkbutt men in my life. But not on a conscience level. I know the reasons for it and I am working on that.
They would do some shit that would wrong me. If they actually did apologize I would tell them "that's OK." But it really wasn't. I would be seething inside while pretending I wasn't bothered.

In my current phase of healing there is another type of saying "it's OK." It is reminding me that having not so perfect moments or thoughts are OK.

Some days I have anxiety - and that's OK
Some days I think about my daughters - and that's OK
     Some days I wonder what life would have been like with them - and that's OK
     Some days I wonder who they would be if they were alive - and that's OK
I wonder how to become normal - and that's OK
     I wonder if I ever will be normal - and that's OK
     I wonder if I ever was normal - and that's OK
I still talk to myself, in regards to the abortions - and that's OK.
     I say I miss my daughters - and that's OK
     I say I want my daughters back - and that's OK
     I say you killed my daughters - and that's OK
     Sometimes simply saying my daughters, without anything specific - and that's OK

Princess Sucky? Lady Coerced?

Oh no, liberals and feminists wouldn't like those names! That's not very empowering, nor conforming to the "my body, my choice" false narrative.

Now what am I yammering about?

Yesterday across the internet was talk about a Twitter tweet that stated "We need a disney (sic) princess who's had an abortion, We need a disney (sic) princess who's pro-choice." Originating from Planned Parenthood Keystone of Trexlertown, Pennsylvania. The tweet had been deleted an hour or so after posting.

I had first read of the tweet from an LCMS Life Ministry post on Facebook. The news was rather new at the time. With a few of the comments being "this is fake news," mostly from pro-choicers. One comment gold was "it was deleted because it's fake news" or something to that effect. Yeah, that really makes no sense. The person who was saying this is essentially admitting that the tweet existed. So how is it fake news, if the tweet existed? My head hurts.

So I went on about my day. Then I read an article from The Dailywire, about the deleted tweet. "Oh no, The Dailywire has a conservative bent!" Yes, The Dailywire does lean conservative, but they are probably the most reliable news/editorial site out there. Be it conservative or liberal. 
Then as the evening went on the subject became a trending news item on Facebook. Many well known news sites were writing about it. Those having mostly a liberal bent. Instead of linking to a few, I shall link to search results; https://www.bing.com/search?q=disney+princess+planned+parenthood+tweet+&qs=n&form=QBRE&sp=-1&pq=disney+princess+planned+parenthood+tweet+&sc=0-41&sk=&cvid=10B0F9F7F25E408B93AFE217BCFF9643

OK, so I don't have any small children. So why do I even care? Eh, I'm not completely sure. 
Perhaps it could be the whole screeching of "Fake news!" from those who don't like being confronted with the truth of what their "side" is doing. Actually, I have a future post on that running through my puny little head. Be warned ain't nobody gonna be safe! 
Perhaps there could be the aspect of being sad that there are people out there wanting to impress their agendas upon children, the future of our country and world. If there is any time in history where children should have their innocence preserved, it is now. 
When I was young enough to be interested in Disney cartoons most of them were replays from my mother's childhood, being shown at movie theaters. I never took them serious. It was just fantasy. I liked the pretty dresses. I did question "how did they 'live happily ever after'?" 
Personally, I preferred the original Grimm's Fairytales, that Disney took and sugar coated. Tragic endings, sometimes. But there were moral tales, without it being filled with agendas.

I Cried, for the First Time

No, not just now. Nor recently. More like over a year ago.

In the previous post I mentioned that I would be writing post ideas that have been swimming in my head for a while. No, I have not been dwelling on the crying continuously for a year. Actually, it is something I have only recently remembered and realized.

As long term readers will recall, the first and last time, I cried was a day or so after the first abortion. The following excerpt is from "Damn! That Hurt!";

...The only thing I clearly remember after that was going to a Wal-Mart with my mother.  We were in line waiting to purchase our items.  Behind us was a couple about my age.  They had a baby in a stroller with them.  The baby was crying.  Basic fussing, like babies do, not causing too much of a scene.  I was about ready to burst into tears.  I asked my mother for the car keys to wait in the car.I bolted out of that store so fast.  The moment I got in the car I bawled like never before.  Tears streaming down my face and hyperventilating in my breathing.  My mother got in the car.  Asked me what was wrong.  Really?  She couldn't put the two together?  I said something to the effect of "I killed my baby" or "I will never see my baby" or both of those things.  Her response?  Oh, that's all. I thought maybe the baby was annoying you and something about I did the right thing, it was no big deal, I would get over it, etc.  Then and there I decided that the only thing to do was to be numb about the situation.

If you are new to reading this blog I would recommend that you read "The First Abortion," to be able to start at the beginning of my story.

Back to the subject at hand. I had not cried since then. I suppose it would be rather difficult to cry over something I did not remember. But even after the memories surfaced I still had that inner child crying within me. Eh, she was probably there the entire time, since the first abortion. I just refused to acknowledge her. I didn't even know why she was there. Though deep in my soul, I knew she was there.
There were times I felt like crying. But could never really bring myself to cry. Sure, there were times when I would get sniffly, maybe even a tear or two fall down my cheeks.
During the different grief sessions at the Rachel's Vineyard Retreat the other attendees did cry, when telling their stories or listening to others' stories. But I was just stoic when speaking and listening. No one judged me for not crying, nor did I judge others for crying. There may have been a moment of self judging myself for not crying. "What's wrong with you, do you have no feeling?"
It was when I was going through a particular rough patch at the beginning of last year, 2017, when I did finally cry. I had been switching between bouts of anger (angry at who or what I do not know) and extreme sadness. One night, late at night, in late January or early February I went on a video binge on YouTube. Searching for all the saddest and most painful songs I could find.

It was then I finally let the tears fall in a sweet sweet release! Everything, the pent up feelings for the past twenty-two years finally came bursting out. Every ounce of moisture being released from my eyes. Face completely wet. Puffy eyes. All of it. Was this the first time crying ever within those years that I had cried? That heavy? I am not sure. I probably had cried, a time or two, over something unrelated. But I really don't recall crying like that.

I never really felt the need to talk of it. I never thought there was any significance in it. But I truly believe this was a major pivotal point in my healing. Probably not a first step, but definitely a huge step, even leap, in my journey to getting up and dusting off.

First of the Year Quarterly Update

Looks like it's been about six months since my last posting. Oh my, where has the time gone? Where do I even start?
Perhaps I should get back to where I left off and "move forward" (that's kind of my catch phrase from now on) from there.

So the last post was about the Her Choice to Heal book by Sydna Masse. I stated that I would like to start a weekly book report about different post abortive books on healing. I still plan on doing that. Currently I am participating in an online book group for Lent. So, I will get back to sharing info on the books soon after Easter.

Part of what distracted me from writing was my mother came to visit, from the current state in which she lives. Actually, things went pretty well. We may have had a small tiff here or there. But generally we got along. And I would like to share that specific aspect of the healing journey in upcoming posts.

Been reading past posts, wow somebody needs a proof reader! But I digress. Seems since the breakdown I always seem to become physically ill in one form or another off and on from January to March. Yep. Been like that this year, of 2018. It will probably be like that, if not forever, for the next few years. And you know what? That's OK.

At the beginning of this year I decided to make an "anti-resolution." Let me explain. At the start of every calendar year so many of us make resolutions for this thing or the other. Usually it's weight loss, being more healthy, being a better spouse, employee, student, giving up one habit of another, giving more to charity, volunteering, or just a better person in general.
Every year at the start of January, since the memories surfaced, I would always make my little vows that "this year will be better." I would proclaim that I would not let the anxiety bother me. I would proclaim to not let the memories get to to me. How that would happen I don't know.
This year I decided not to even try. Despite being sick off and on, this has probably been my best first quarter of the year since the breakdowns. Perhaps even since the abortions.
Do I still fall? Yes. Do I get back up? Yes. A while back I chose to get up and dust off, over forget and move on. By the way, I hate that phrase about forgetting and moving on with every passion in my being. My falling seems to be less extreme and injurious, the bumps and bruises are less painful. This of course from an emotional standpoint. When I get up from the falls I stand taller. I stand prouder. The dust that needs to be shaken off is less thick.
Why is this? It could be just the old standby of "time heals old wounds." Which I will give credence to that. But I think there is an aspect of when the memories do surface I just let it ride. I don't attempt to will them away. The memories do seem less frequent. Frankly, there really is not many new memories to come to the surface. Though there are still some blank spots, I think I have remembered all that I can.

Perhaps I am remembering all that God will allow. Perhaps He will give me more memories as He sees fit that I can handle. Perhaps not. Truly I could not do this without my faith in Him. My morning prayers don't include specifities about the memories, unless I may have had a rather jarring dream that recalled back to the memories. But I do pray that He will watch over, guide me, and keep the anxiety at bay. Should I have anxiety in the day, I will stop what I am doing and get on my knees to pray.

One area in which I will be making a conscious effort is ideas for future posts, besides those mentioned above. I will be writing thoughts that have been stuck in my head since last year, but still relevant to share. I want to keep up the Random Thoughts page, when quick quips pop in my head. I also want to fill in the gaps about the first ten or so years following the abortions. I will be adding current pro-life articles that are in the news. Perhaps just sharing, maybe adding my own thoughts. I will be adding a few Christian posts, that focus on grief and abortion.